Possessed
by twistedmic
Summary: The Batsuit is like a demon, and he loathes it. Main character deliberately ambiguous, it is up for the reader to decide


Disclaimer- I do not own any part whatsoever of the DCU.

Possessed.

The demon stood in the shadows, menacing despite its slenderness, staring out at him with blank white eyes, never blinking. He could feel the pressure of its gaze on his back, no matter where he was. It followed him everywhere, haunted his thoughts and invaded his dreams every night, constantly stalking him, waiting to pounce and devour his soul, to take control of his body. It tried to seduce him with promises of power, promises of strength, promises of invulnerability. They were lies. The demon offered nothing but pain and loss and loneliness. It fed off of whoever it touched, drew away their life-force, their being. He hated the demon, loathed it, and yet, knowing that it hungered for him, he went to its embrace all too often, albeit reluctantly. If not him, it would have been someone else, someone less capable than him. He had to consort with the demon to spare others, innocents, from its hunger.

The demon owned the city below its lofty roost, demanded order within its domain. Any who disrupted that order, violated its rule, would be hunted down without mercy. It would lash out from the darkness, wielding the dual weapons of fear and vengeance in an iron fist. As powerful, as frightening as the demon was, it was nothing more than shadows and vapor without a human host. It needed a sacrifice, a vessel to carry out its dark judgment.

He had avoided the demon for nearly a week, but its insidious whispers had grown too loud to be ignored. He had to go to it tonight, let it wrap him in its dark and cold embrace, to let it twist and mutate his body into a more suitable form.

He approached the demon and, with a slight tremor in his fingers, beckoned it forth. It surged forward, spread out and consumed him. He ceased to be himself and became the demon, became the Bat.

Empowered by the Bat demon, he ghosted across the rooftops, gliding from shadow to shadow with preternatural grace and silence. He had been patrolling the city for nearly four hours now, well past midnight, and had already stopped three robberies, one attempted car-jacking and two muggings. He had asserted his dominance of the city, of the night, and was almost ready to retire to the demon's roost, to try and escape its cloying embrace.

A car, with tinted windows and its lights off, slowly turning into an alley caught his attention. Innocents, law-abiding citizens, did not drive through the city at night without their headlights on, nor did they drive into alleys. That was criminal behavior. The car pulled to a stop just inside an empty, abandoned lot. Two other cars were already in the lot, facing the opposite direction to facilitate a quick escape, further proof of criminal activity.

He crouched at the edge of a roof overlooking the lot, waiting for the right moment to strike. If he moved too soon, he wouldn't be able to stop them all before they had a chance to draw the guns they undoubtedly carried. If he moved too late, they had a good chance of escaping with whatever their contraband and their drug/blood money.

The occupants of all three cars exited almost simultaneously. The two men from the third car each carried a large duffle slung over their shoulders. Four men each stepped out of the other two cars, most of them openly carrying weapons. Two held shotguns and the other five held sub-machine guns. The last man, dressed in a semi-expensive suit, was unarmed and carried a black leather briefcase.

When the time came he'd go for the SMGs first. They were the more dangerous of the weapons, higher velocity, higher penetration, greater risk to by-standers. The shotguns would be next, then the bagmen. The man in the suit would be last.

When the men had reached the center of the lot he made his move. He pulled a flash-bang shuriken from his belt. In a single, smooth motion he thumbed the activation stud and flung the weapon towards the cluster of criminals. He jumped off the roof seconds later, his cape snapping rigid in the wind and let him glide down safely.

The shuriken detonated and he landed amid the stunned thugs seconds later. He was like a grim reaper harvesting the souls that he was due as he tore into the thugs. They didn't stand a chance against him. He nearly grinned at the ease that he was able to disable them.

When the thugs were unconscious, he hogtied them with flex-cuffs and high-test monofilament wire then used one of the criminal's phone to call the police and tell them where to find the criminals and their contraband.

She was waiting for him when he returned to the demon's roost, concern clear in her crystal blue eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Alfred called me." She said calmly, unafraid of the demon's dark visage or its harsh and cruel voice. She pressed her hand to his chest and he could almost feel the warmth of her touch through the demon's armor. She slowly and gently pulled the cowl from his head, weakening the demon's grip on his soul. "You're not sleeping enough." She whispered and caressed his now bear cheek. She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and, without a further word, began peeling away bits of the demon's carapace. When he was down to just his underwear and the demon's hide littered the floor she kissed him again and took his hand. She silently led him out of the roost and through his own darkened home and to his bedroom.

Once in his room, she expertly flicked back his sheets, wine-red silk, and pushed him down in the bed. She quickly stripped down to her own underwear and slid in next to him before pulling the sheets back into place. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. Her presence, and the comforting and familiar scent of her shampoo, soap and natural perfume, held the demon at bay, kept it from infecting his thoughts and dreams. He could sleep now, actually rest, knowing that she was there to protect him. "I love you." He whispered tiredly and squeezed her tighter.

She sighed. He ever spoke those words when he was fully awake and aware. It was only when exhaustion had weakened his resolve, in the brief window between awake and asleep, that he was able to be so honest with his feelings and deeply hidden desires. She held him tight and ran her fingers through his hair. "I love you too"

Author's Note- I originally started this as an answer to one of the Head Cannons from , specifically this one- 248. To keep up the act that Batman wasn't really gone, Dick has had to dress up as Batman at least once a week and do a patrol around Gotham. I intended it to be Dick's feelings about wearing the suit, but then realized that it could work as Bruce's thoughts about the suit just as easily and without having to change anything, so I decided to leave it ambiguous as to who the story is about.


End file.
